


Converte, It Iubes.

by Daisy_Anne



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Asgard, F/M, Gen, How Do I Tag, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Quill Feels, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Spoilers, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Tissue Warning, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Valhalla, the marvel trio reassembling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-04-29 04:45:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14465310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_Anne/pseuds/Daisy_Anne
Summary: what happens in between the skyfalls, and the earthshifts; little by little, they reintegrate.Chaper 1: Tony and PeterChapter 2: Quill and GamoraChapter 3: ThorChapter 4: Steve and Bucky





	1. Reverse

**Author's Note:**

> Infinity war spoilers, m'dudes. Proceed with caution.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cut the sick son of a bitch's hand and--"
> 
> "Mister Stark, please stop talking."

 

when peter reintegrated, he was greeted by silence.

he could feel his bones reassembling themselves from ashes, his skin reappearing, his thoughts coming to one--he took his first breath greedily and opened his eyes in urgency.

the world was silent as it raged on fire. orange skies and debris made his surrounding look like titan and for a second he choked, fear consuming him, memories of flesh turning to ashes engulfing his conscience. But no; a blink, then two, made him realize that this was no space. _no,_ this was earth.

_home._

he shot straight up, sitting suddenly. his eyes wildly searching for anything, anyone ( _someone_ ) but instead his focus landed on something else. 

there, just a few meters apart from him, was the giant purple man, laying on the ground, unmoving. Peter squinted, and he could now see in details of the mad titan in question. his skin were tainted with scars and blood. his chest were still. and his hand--his gauntlet-bearing hand were straight up amputated, no gauntlet at sight.

_we won_ was all he could think about.

this, of course, excited him. he began moving, trying to regain his stance. _we won,_ he thought. _i didn't die and we won._ He felt giddy with relief, endorphins coursing through his veins. the beginning buds of happiness blossomed in the pit of his stomach. He could see people moving around him amidst the fallen concrete and ruined cars, running to each other, hugging, crying silently, and the tightness in his throat lessen. Sure, buildings dropped, and roads were broken, but they had _won._

"Pe-- _ter?"_

Aburptly, Peter turned, knowing that voice better than he knew anyone else. but what was once his smile froze halfway, as he was greeted with a sight he never thought would see.

Tony Stark was there, barely sitting, half his body graced with unimaginable burn. gloved on the remains of his right arm was the gauntlet, golden and glorious and uscathed. " _Peter._ " He choked blood, and Peter must be delusional because he saw a smile on Tony's face.

the world, chaotic as it seemed, started to make sense around him.

_We won._

_But not without paying prices._

_"_ Mister Stark," Was all he could manage, before he stumbled to his side, legs still wobbly from being _fucking resurrected._ He fell on his knees beside the older man, cradling his head to his lap.

(Just like he did to Peter back in titan. back when he was the one-

_don'tsayitdon'tsayitdon'tsayit.)_

"Oh Thank _God."_ Tony was all tears by the time Peter's eyes could finally work normally. "Oh, Peter, Thank God, Thank _God..."_ He gripped Peter's hands with his functional hands so tightly it might bruise, his face showing utmost relief like he wasn't counting seconds from his death. "Thought I lo- _st you,_ but you're _alive--_ you're _safe, safe,_ ** _safe."_**

As if Peter was the one half-roasted and struggling for air.

"Mister Stark, wha--what happened?" Peter stuttered fearfully, brain working hundreds of miles per second.

"We won," was all Tony said, chuckling in suck a Stark-esque way, and Peter wanted to slap him for being so casual. "Cut the sick son of a bitch's hand and--" He paused, suddenly, for a violent cough that spilled blood all over his ruined Iron Man suit, and Peter's. His eyes drooped, the whites taking over the brown, and Peter was suddenly reminded of that night of him and uncle ben, his uncle bleeding by the side of the pedestrian as Peter called for him.

"Mister Stark, please stop talking," Peter said, shakily, "You--you need to--hospital--" he said, desperately, gripping Tony's hand with all he's got. " _HELP!"_ He screamed, "HE'S INJURED. _HELP!"_

Around him were silent. people didn't move to him, perhaps in fear or in reluctance or in grief, he didn't know. He didn't care. He needed them moving. " _PLEASE!"_ He begged--still no one came.

He turned to Tony, who was still wheezing, his breaths coming and going unsteadily and Peter wanted to _scream._ "It's okay, Peter," He whispered, reassuring him. his burnt hand twitched, and he winced in a split second. _Lies,_ Peter wanted to scream, his lips trembling as his free fingertips ghosted Tony's features. His eyes were blurred with tears. "Hey, Peter, _Peter--_ Look at me. It's oka--y."

Peter couldn't speak, he could only shake his head. Tony's good arm caressed his cheek affectionately, and Peter didn't understand why he looked so serene. "So, so proud of you--" Tont coughed more blood, causing Peter to freeze in panic, but he continued, "going to grow up great, you and Har- _ley_ , I know it,"

"Mister Stark--"

"Take care of them, al-- _right?_ Tell Pepper--tell Pepper to name them whatever she w-- _ants._ Maybe Peggy or--or Maria for the girl, just not--" Tony coughed violently, his chest heaving as he struggled for air, and Peter let out an anguished sound from his throat. "Just not _Howard_ for the b-oy, okay?"

"Please--" Peter begged when realization dawned upon him. _No, he couldn't leave, not right now, not when he was so close to happiness._ "Please, _Tony--"_

_"_ I love you." Tony whispered before choking again, "Tell Pepper and--and Rhodey and Harley, that I love them too," His last breath hinged, his skin tinted blue. "Tell my kids I love them, too."

" _Tony_ _!"_

"I'm sorry." was his last words, looking at Peter intently, before his hands went limp, his eyes closing, and he sagged in Peter's embrace.

Peter felt numb.

"Tony?"

He didn't get a reaction.

"No, Tony, _please,_ wake _up_..."

Around him, smoke rose, and bodies were scattered. The infinity gauntlet, gleaming and resilient, reflected the fire burning above him. Silently offering him that  _unimaginable power._

He didn't care.

"Please _,_ dad, _please_..."

The aftermath of war tasted salty in his mouth. it took him a while to realize that it was his own tears.

  



	2. Half Worlds Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wait for me."
> 
> "Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers for IW.

When Peter finally opened his eyes, he was hoping to be met with Green. Gorgeous, magnificent,  _beautiful green._

instead it was Rocket looming over him–and Groot. and Mantis. And Drax. and Nebula. and above them, he saw the sky; Blue, with a tint of red and purple and yellow. Beautiful.

But there was no green.

“Finally, you Fatso,” Rocket grunted in what one could perceive as displeasure, but Quill could see tears at the bay of his eyes. “You were taking  _forever_  to wake up from your beauty sleep.”

He ignored Rocket’s shittalk and turned to nebula. “Where–” His throats were dry and his lips parched, it was difficult to speak, “Where is Gamora?”

_but he needed to know._

Nebula looked at him helplessly. “I don’t–” She said, voice broken mid-sentence, and Peter never thought that he would see the day when Nebula would choke with  _tears_ , yet here he was, watching her as she slowly fell apart. “She didn’t–”

Beside her, Rocket lowered his head, and he could feel one of Groot’s root caressing his head. Mantis looked at him in part-fear, part-grief, and Drax fidgeted, his usually clueless yet excited self dimmed by the thousands.

_she didn’t make it_  rang on his head like a sirene, and Peter wanted to vomit.

“No,” Peter shook his head, slowly sitting up. His throat was clogged with emotions, overflowing his body like hellfire. “No, Nebula,  _please_.”

Nebula could only stare at him with her android eyes, pitch black and so,  _so_  sad. Her knuckles covered her mouth, but he could hear her tiny whimpers. “ _I’m sorry_ ,” was all she could say.

Peter wanted to scream. but instead he rose, breaking free from his concerned circle, head turning wildly as if searching for something, some _one_ –before he stopped, aburptly.

His steps were wobbly and he fell, several times, but that didn’t stop him from striding to the wizard-man with the self-aware cloak only meters away from him. He was still trying to sit back up, clearly disoriented, when Peter grabbed him by the collar.

“Why didn’t she come  _back_?” He hissed, eye-to-eye with the man in question. “Why–”

The cloak slapped him away, and he broke his grip apart as he fell to the ground. But Starlord leaped up again, as if ready to fight. “Quill–” The wizard man began, and his deep, calming voice only made Peter angrier.

_“_ _Where_  is she, Strange?”

_Why didn’t she come back here, with me?_

The wizard sighed, looking away from him. “The reversible deaths could only be for the ones losing their lives in effect of the stones.” He lowered his head. “Your lover… she didn’t die because of the stone. we can’t bring her back.”

_She’s dead_  was all Peter could hear.

_She’s_   _deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead_ –

Peter scrambled away from Strange, the words screaming in his head, hammering his conscience. His eyes were scanning his surroundings wildly, hoping the reality would disprove his predictions. “You should have–should have let me stay  _dead.”_ He said, voice coming out strangled and broken.

Strange shook his head. “I didn’t make the rules, Quill.” He said, softly. “and whoever made it–didn’t discriminate.”

_it only takes._

Peter’s eyes clicked to something else, a giant pile half a mile away, and something in him  _snapped_.

He approached the purple corpse with no caution, only rage. Thanos’ eyes were still open, empty and lifeless. His gauntlet-bearing hand were amputated by God-Knows-Who, the infinity stones nowhere in sight.

Peter saw red.

“ _YOU_!” He screamed. striking Thanos’s body with all the power he got. “You  _did this_!” Punch, “if it wasn’t because of _you_ –” kick, scratch, “She’d still be  _here_!”

Thanos stayed unmoving as Peter heaved, his vision blurred due to– _tears_?

“it’s not fair.” He fell to his knees, tilting his chin up to the sky, screaming. “it’s not  _fair.”_

Why did the world let the Madman die? why didn’t the world let  _him_?

“I love her.” Peter sobbed, brokenly. “I love her and we were so close, so  _close_ …”

in his periphery, he could make out people moving around him cautiously. he could catch the blurry image of the spider-boy crouching over something. he could catch the world slowly regaining its composure, its axis, but he didn’t  _care_.

He’d greet the apocalypse with open arms if it meant being with her.

“I love her.” Peter whispered to the twilight sky. Earth had always tasted bitter in his mouth. “Why do you always take everything that I love?”

–

“ _let’s go.”_

“ _You know i can’t, Peter.”_

_“Gamora–”_

_She caressed his hair affectionately, and Peter resisted the white light’s pull even stronger._

_“I don’t want to leave you here.” He said, leaning to her touch._

“ _And I don’t want to leave you there,” Gamora said softly, “But we don’t make the decisions, Peter. We can only follow.”_

“ _Please_ –”

“ _Peter,” Gamora tilted her head to the side, looking at him with somber eyes. “We’re going to meet again, okay? But until then, I need you to hold on.” She kissed his jaw, then his cheek, then his nose, she even stood on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead._

_“I love you,” Peter attempted, desperately, as if saying that would convince the universe otherwise._

“ _and I love **you**.” Gamora promised, her lips ghosting over his, “and when you walk through those lights again, I’ll be the first one greeting you here.” She looked up to him, eyes brimming with tears. “We just have to be patient, okay?”_

_Peter didn’t answer, he only grabbed her by the waist and kissed her with all of his might. They kissed like their existence depended on it, the kissed until they could barely breathe._

_they kissed even as Peter disintegrated, finally consumed by the white light, leaving Gamora holding to the ghost of his embrace._

“ _Only one lifetime to go, Peter.” She whispered to the light._

_**Wait for me.** _

_**Always**_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy ending, what happy ending?  
> Somewhere, the Russo Brothers are laughing at the psychological trauma they caused to us.


	3. Valhalla.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Getting mellow without me--oof!"
> 
> "You little shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR THIS IS A HAPPY ONE GUYS

when Thor first regained his senses, his fingertips touched what one could perceive as a soft bed of grass. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and the sun gleamed gently at the centre of the blue sky, illuminating but not blinding. The birds around him was chirping, a melodious note that Thor could listen for _days._

Thor sat up, grogginess slowly leaving his body, and he realized that he was in the middle of a quiet meadow. At the front of him was a lake, crystal clear like the one they used to have in Asgard.

_This must be some strange dream_ he thought. Some strange, pleasant dream that he really didn't want to wake up from--even though he had to; because the last time he closed his eyes, the sky was grey with smoke instead of clear blue, and instead of vast flowerfield there lied rubbles, ashes, and _blood._

_(and bodies of his fallen comrades, marking his umpteenth losses--_

_but that is no road he was willing to take.)_

But this was nice, and for a while, he didn't want to think, so he simply _felt_.

"Enjoying the view, my love?"

Something twisted at the pit of his stomach because he knew that voice, had been accustomed to hearing it since _birth._ The voice that would scream at his and his brother's antics, laughed at their poor jokes, and soothed them with simple lullabies. That voice used to be his _anchor._

"Mother?" He looked up, part-hopeful part-wrecked, for this dream, pleasant as it was, was far too cruel. He knew he lost thousands in this war, had been carrying the guilt and the grief for each lives lost to the enemy. Did they have to remind him of how much he had to mourn?

"My child," His mother looked _ethereal,_ a sight to behold. Her smile looked as radiant as ever, and Thor's heart ached at the sight of her. "You changed your hair."

Thor's hand flew to his head sheepishly--his short new locks soft on his palm. "some old man in a wasteland decided that I looked better without it." He said, as she lowered herself next to him. Frigga chuckled, one hand raised to caress her son's head.

"Well I have to disagree." She said, softly, "I quite liked braiding your locks. It's calming, and it made you stay put so not to cause any ruckus."

Thor did not respond to that, as memories of his mother's hand gently dressing his hair when he was only a wee boy flooded him. He was reminded of a different time, when the sun shone on Asgardian Meadows, when his family was still whole, happy, _alive._

_"_ How are you, my love?" Asked Frigga, eyes showing genuine concern and interest. "Something tells me that you're quite tired." 

Thor had never been quite close to his mother, not as much as Loki did. He was always with his father, discussing fighting techniques or governing strategy, always so lost in his own little world of being the crown prince and a God--and yet Frigga was always just _there,_ so accepting at his latest antics, laughing at his jokes, always ended up singing him lullabies at the end of even the worst of days--and Thor, who never even got to say _i love you_ before he last saw her, wanted to savor this moment before he wakes up.

"Maybe just a little bit." Thor said, as he looked at her eyes. "It's been a long day, mother."

The Asgardian matriarch shook her head in disapproval. "Well we can't have you overworking yourself. come here," Frigga's hand pulled Thor's head to her shoulder softly, and Thor, depraved of and desperate for a scratch of happiness for _God knew how long,_ leaned to his mother's touch and buried his face to the nook of her neck. 

"I miss you, mother," Whispered Thor to her embrace. "So, so _much."_

_"_ And I you, sweetheart." Muttered Frigga to his hairline.

Thor closed his eyes, and both of them enjoyed the silence for a while. If he blocked his thoughts, he could pretend that this was the reality--but he knew that this was too good to be true, and if he stalled any longer, what would happen to earth? to his comrades? To Stark, to Rogers, to Banner?

no, he had to wake up. he had to help.

_but he was so, so tired._

"I have to go back," Thor muffled his words to Frigga's shoulder, yet his body was heavy, dreading to be moved. "I have to _help."_

Frigga's cradle grew tighter before she released him. She looked at him square in the eyes, a mysterious smile gracing her lips. "What if I told you," She said, "that you don't have to?"

Thor looked at her in confusion, "mother?" he asked, curiously. What was she implying? What was she trying to say?

Instead of answering verbally, Frigga waved her hand, and the lake in front of them gleamed softly. "Come watch," Frigga said, and Thor inched closer to the waters, curiosity coursing through him.

There, in display, was earth; broken, battered, and bruised, yet somehow _surviving._ He could make out the buildings amidst the smoke, and the people amidst the rubble, but his attention was entirely focused on the unmoving body just at the end of the line.

The Mad Titan laid lifeless and bare, open for the whole world to see. His head split open, arm amputated. His infinity gauntlet was nowhere near his corpse.

Thor gulped, looking at his mother fearfully, hopefully. "Did we--?"

" _You_ did, my love." Said Frigga, running her fingers through Thor's hair. "You amputated his hands, made him vulnerable enough to be defeated. You _won."_

And then he remembered.

_Thanos was gloating. He was puffing his chest and he was bragging--of him being the savior of the universe, of the world being better because of his actions._

_He was bragging and, drunk with victory, he was vulnerable._

_Banner's Hulk was thrown miles apart, perhaps unconscious and heavily injured. Romanoff's limbs were broken, and they all knew she could barely move. Hawkeye lost an eye, his hearing aids torn to shreds, his arrows and bow destroyed beyond belief. Next to him were man of Iron and Captain Rogers, chest heaving for air, bones creaking and flesh bleeding._

_The three of them were the only ones left._

_"Maybe I can strike him from random directions," Said Tony, looking intently at the mad Titan. "I managed to scratch him at titan, and I have my blasters on command to do it again. all I have to do is fly close enough to him and--"_

_"Tony," Steve cut him off, sternly. "You heard what Wong said; you're the_ _**only one** _ _who can wield the gauntlet and not disintegrate to dust. We can't risk wasting you to a non-foolproof plan." His words stopped there, but Thor could see his eyes said much more. He stepped forward. "I'll try cutting him with the shield. Vibranium penetrated his skin the last time--"_

_"Steve, no--" Tony protested. "You're injured, for God's sake--"_

_"I'll do it." Thor announced to the three of them, eyes narrowing in determination._

_"Thor--"_

_"No, Thor--"_

_"what exactly are you going to do, aim for the head? You know the last time didn't--" Tony asked, frantically, panic already frazzling his mind once more. Seeing this, Thor put a reassuring hand to his shoulder, trying to ground the small man._

_"No, man of iron," he said, calmly, as if the world wasn't ending around them. "I'm going to amputate his arm."_

_Steve and Tony looked at him in utter disbelief. "You have got to be kidding." Tony said, eyes wide as saucers._

_Man of Iron, Captain," Thor silenced them with a look. "I am a God with a magic axe, the only weapon that can hurt him with one strike." He said, looking at them intently. "I am your best shot at this."_

_Steve chimed in, his voice concerned as he said, "That's suicide, Thor. That's--"_

_"The only plausible plan we have." Thor finished the sentence with a deadpan. "Listen to me. One strike won't be able to get us to his head, not with the stones still gloved on his hand, so I am going to amputate his gauntlet arm, and then, as he's vulnerable, you--" he nodded to Steve, "Strike him with Vibranium, aim for the head. And you--" he tilted his chin to Tony, who still looked at him like he'd grown a second head, "take the gauntlet. Reverse what he did." He emphasized on each words, desperate for his comrades to catch his plans. "Do you understand?"_

_"I still don't think--"_

_"do. you. understand?" Thor repeated, looking them straight in the eyes. Silence were exchanged between them, until finally, Tony and Steve relented. "Good."_

_For all the time they took arguing and planning, Thor half-expected Thanos to pick up what they were doing and struck them straight on--but no, he was far too absorbed in his victory to pay attention to the silly heroes._

_Thor took this as a chance, and charged head on, the axe at hand. "THANOS!" He screamed, catching the titan's attention. He leaped, axe raised, ready to strike--_

_only for Thanos to catch him, his gauntlet burning Thor's skin. "Silly God," Thanos said, as Thor felt his flesh fried by his grip. "You think you can defeat me?" He hissed, gritting his large teeth to Thor's face. "You'll only_ _**die.** _ _"_

_"No," Thor said, heaving, his grin growing wider, for death scared him no longer; he had nothing to lose._ _**allfather,** _ _he prayed,_ _**let the thunder run through me one last time.** _ _"I know I can."_

_Thanos didn't understand at first, then--then he screamed as Thor's fingertips charged thunder to his purple skin, letting the waves of violent electricity coursing through his system. As Thanos yelped in pain, completely disoriented and unaware, Thor--battered, bruised, and burnt Thor--raised his axe one last time--_

_and cut._

_The purple arm rolled through the pavement as Thanos howled in agony, and Thor screamed, his voice parched and hoarse, "NOW!"_

"You see, my love?" Said his mother, quietly. "You have outdone yourself. You have _saved_ the _universe."_

"And for that, I think we're even," another voice chimed into the conversation, and Thor's heart almost leaped out from his chest, because he knew that voice, _oh,_ that stupidly annoying voice.

" _Loki."_ He breathed as he looked up, relief coursing through him when he saw Loki and his father, all in their glory; no pain, no injuries, only serenity.

"Brother," Loki said, snidely, although his smile implied otherwise. "Getting mellow without me-- _oof!"_

Thor tackled Loki to the bed of grass, snuggling to his neck. He didn't care that he'd dampen Loki's shoulder-pads.

He was just so, _so,_ glad to see him.

"You little shit," Thor muttered through his tears, hiding his smile--the first real one he'd had in _years._

"Even in the afterlife," Loki replied, "You're still a big oaf." And if Thor didn't know any better, he'd even bet that Loki was crying as well.

There was a hand on his spine, calloused and big, and he could hear his father whispered, "Rest, my boy,

you earned it."

\---

_He could feel the swing of Thanos' other arm hitting him by the side, throwing him straight on to chunks of the ruins around him. He could feel his head bleeding, his heart constricting as he struggled to breathe, and his eyes blurring._

_But he could still see as Steve picked up the axe and split Thanos' head open._

_could still see when Tony shakily removed the gauntlet and put it on his own, trembling hand._

_could still see when the stones glow, the light illuminating his surrounding._

_in his last breaths, Thor whispered;_

_"That was for Asgard."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make another angst but,, this is Thor man. As in, lost-his-parents-his-siblings-his-friends-his-hammer-his-people Thor. I don't want him to be sad because of me. So for him, i'll make a happy ending.


	4. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You and me both, buddy."
> 
> "Please don't 'buddy' me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um... do i still have to give spoilers warning anymore? i mean it has been two weeks. pretty sure you all have your hearts broken already.

When Bucky could finally breathe again, he almost didn't _want to._

it had became a routine for him; the cold, harsh awakening. The magic words, always ready to command, ones he had nothing in his power to deny or to fight back. Waking up meant killing, stealing, _destroying,_ and Bucky didn't want to harm anyone.

Frankly, he just wanted to _rest._

(and Steve.)

Bucky just wanted to swim in nothingness for a little bit longer, but when has he ever--

_wait, I can think._

He stopped, eyes still closed, but this time his wistful thoughts halted to a pause. His head did not scream, was not hungry for orders. His conscience, albeit hazy, was solely inhabited by him and him _only._

_i'm alone. in my head, i'm alone._

Bucky was never alone in his thoughts. Not since HYDRA hijacked it and made it _theirs._

Said realization almost felt like a cold splash of air, and Bucky gasped, his body shooting up in part-shock part-alarmed. The lights were too bright, _too bright_ but he managed, and soon enough he could put a word into his surroundings;

Quiet Chaos.

Slowly, it all came back to him; Wakanda and its beautifully advanced technology, Princess Shuri gently poking and proding and _solving_ his mind the way others couldn't. Of tasting that _freedom_ after so, so long. The memory filled him with relief, but only for a split second as the horrors around him reminded him of other memories as well; of King T'Challa and his solemn face, of his new arm.

" _where's the battle?"_

_"on its way."_

(he remembered himself, disintegrating into dust right in front of--)

Debris and ashes fell from the sky, covering his clothes, his metal arm, his hair. He looked up and saw the sun, orange and disappearing, casting a twilight zone over the horizon.

Buildings fell.

Bodies sprawled.

for a second, Bucky wasn't sure which end it was for mother earth this time. But then--

Then he saw _him._

laying right there, in his periphery; his goddamn blue signature attire smeared by something red-- _blood?_ He laid, unmoving. Looking at the scene made Bucky almost vomit, and he all but scrambled to his side, his wobbly legs forced to carry his weight.

"Steve!" He all but dropped on his best friend's ( _?_ ) side, one metal hand carefully caress the delicate skin of the ex-Captain's face. His eyes were closed, his hands limp and stretched, and in his grip was his shield, the vintage one that Howard made for him.

When Bucky realized that Steve was breathing, he all but gasped in relief. " _Steve."_ He said, his voice trembling in half-hope, half-fear. "Please, _please wake up."_

and then, as if the angels had heard him beg, Steve's eyelids fluttered.

Bucky's free hand reached his limp ones and latched their fingers together. "Come on, Stevie, come back to me." He urged him, his rough voice somewhat softer than feather, and slowly, slowly Steve opened his eyes, his baby blue orbs were sight for sore eyes.

" _Bucky?"_ He croaked, and then his eyes narrowed at Bucky's face, his once limp hand untangling from their grip, and his fingers trembled its way up, tracing the lines of Bucky's face with the lightest touch, as of afraid that he'd disappear right in front of him, _again._

"Steve, Steve," Bucky said, hands griping Steve's wrists tightly, "God, you're _alive."_

And Goddamn that boy, that golden, pure-hearted boy from Brooklyn that snatched Bucky's mind-- _heart?--_ years ago. Goddamn that boy who fought tooth and nail to save him, who turned the world upside down to aid him. Said boy laughed, a weak chuckle amidst the suffocating silence, and said, "That's s'posed to be my line, Buck."

And really, the world was probably ending, they probably lost already, but in that moment, Bucky simply couldn't _care._

He planted a light kiss to Steve's lips, feather-like with a hint of fear of his golden boy disappearing right in front of him.

( _just like he did three times in front of Steve.)_

For a split second, when Steve was too stunned to do anything, Bucky felt dread filling his system. _What if I was wrong? What if he didn't feel the same--_

And then Steve all but leaned closed and deepened the kiss, their beards scratching one another as their tongues explored each other in fervor. Bucky thought he saw fireworks exploding as he closed his eyelids, and felt thousands of butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

Bucky stopped aburptly when Steve groaned into his mouth, his eyes zeroing to Steve's winced expression, fear creeping back to him. _will he--?_

But then Steve grinned, "I know you're tired of waiting but," He heaved, cheeks blushing, "maybe we should wait until i'm not heavily wounded." He said, cheekily. "Though I'm glad you waited until now because imagine the backlash if we do it in the _forties_."

Steve Grant Rogers was going to be the death of James Buchannan Barnes.

"You stupid idiot," Bucky hissed, but there was an endearing undertone in it. He looked around, trying to seek for help, but the scenery around him punched the bubbling happiness out from his gut, as he was once again reminded of the horrors, of the loss, of the _leftovers of war._

"Did we--" said Bucky, his throat clogged with emotions as the chaos overwhelmed him. "Did he--"

But then, just like how he found Steve, he saw _him._ That purple devil he couldn't mistake for anyone else. He was just across them by a few meters, and a small part in Bucky's brain wondered how on _earth_ had he missed the giant Titan before.

The Mad Alien didn't move, and when Bucky squinted his eyes, he could see his gauntlet-hand missing and his head-- _split open?_

"Huh," Steve said, beside him, quietly. "The Vibranium really _does_ work." He smiled, sighing. "Please remind me to express my fullest gratitude to Princess Shuri."

"You and me both, buddy," Bucky quipped, cradling Steve's head to his head. He didn't care if the world watched, whispered, commented. He didn't care of anything right now.

Because they _won_ and Steve _was here._

"Please don't 'buddy' me." Steve said, "it feels like it cheapens the kiss we just shared." as if emphasizing his point, Steve reached Bucky's jaw and gave him a soft peck.

"Would it be better if I call you Sugar instead?" Bucky teased, and Steve laughed, for real this time, the crinkled-eyes-and-left-boob-grab kind of laugh that Bucky had missed so, _so much._

"Only if i get to call you Sugar, too." He said, and Bucky nodded, grinning so wide. Steve's eyes softened then, and he cradled Bucky closer, their eyes meeting. "God, Buck, I _love you,_ so _much."_

"And I you, Stevie," Bucky leaned closer, their breaths mingling as he spoke. "And I you."

He traced Steve's jawline with care, and the world ceased to only the two of them. Bucky wondered if this  was the taste or hope; tangy with a little bit of debris.

They stayed like that for a while, absorbed in each other. Bucky had been waiting seventy years for this, had gone through grimy torture and mind control and endless, endless war for this, had died _two times_ for _this._

They would find things to mourn on, later, when the euphoria died down. Would find their friends among the debris, part of the fallen casualties. Would close their eyes and shed tears on their bodies, would let the grief hold their hearts.

But Steve loved him, and all _that?_

 

that was enough for Bucky to go on.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOO SNAP ANOTHER HAPPY ENDING??? tbh i don't really like Steve but this ninety seven year yound grandpa deserves a happy ending after all the shits thrown at him.

**Author's Note:**

> My psych said that I have a tendency for masochism. Personally, I just like rubbing salt in my own wound. anyway, Infinity War killed me so see y'all in one year fellas.


End file.
